


Echoes of Stars

by jormaperalta



Category: The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Multi, action and fluff, but nothing more than what happens in the movie, inaccurate arabic, soulmate!AU, warning for knife in the Scarab scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 09:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10383960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jormaperalta/pseuds/jormaperalta
Summary: She looked there next and there they were, right on her skin.So who’s the broad+When you turn 13, the first words your soulmate tells you appear on your skin. Some words are better than others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I had to add a line of dialogue from the original script to use as Jonathan’s line to Ardeth because it honestly just worked better for the universe I had set up.
> 
> Dedicated to Elsaclack/em for being an amazing writing help

(London, England - 1903 AD)

Evelyn Carnahan grew up hearing stories about Soulmate Sayings. Her mother always told her they’re “the most powerful thing in the world.” They shape everything about everyone.

Honestly, kind of scary, so on the eve of her thirteenth birthday, she found herself too anxious to sleep, so she went to bug her brother Jonathan.

“Go away, Evie,” He ordered her, sinking deeper into his covers.

“Please, Jon,” She nearly begged. “I’m so anxious, and Mum and Dad are still on their excavation-”

He leaned up and rubbed a hand over his face, and finally looked at her. Without a word, he scooted over and made room for her in his bed.

Beaming, she burrowed in next to him.

“What happened when you got yours?” Evie asked him.

Her brother humphed with the effort of talking, but he told the story. “It was the middle of the day during class, and I just _felt_ the Saying was there. I ran to the bathroom and saw my words on my left arm.”

“And what did they say?” She prompted him.

“Jesus, you already know-”

“ _Please_ ,” She wheedled.

He sighed, but answered. “ _Now leave, all of you, quickly_ ”

No Soulmate Sayings had ending punctuation, which irked her a little. But it was the way it was. She, in all her research, had yet to find a reason. One day, she would find the answer.

“Kind of foreboding, isn’t it?” She poked where it was on his arm.

“Only a little,” He said with a smirk in his voice. “I wonder what I’ll have to leave.”

“Maybe it’s in a tomb, like in one of the pyramids,” She mused. They _do_ travel a lot. Even to Egypt. “Or a bar.”

“You better not tell Mum I drink,” He whipped around abruptly, staring her in the face. “You better not.” He pinched her ear as either an information-extracting tactic or a punishment.

“I don’t!” She said and slapped his hand away. “Besides, anyone could tell if they smelled you.”

“Oh that’s it, you old mum,” With that, he launched a tickle attack on her that lasted until she nearly kicked him in the crotch. “Okay, on that note, we’re going to bed.”

“Good night, Jonathan,” She said, out of breath from the tickling onslaught.

“Good night, Evie.”

Evie fell asleep beside her brother and was finally able to actually sleep. But then she woke with a gasp a few hours later. Even though she didn’t know how, she knew her words were going to be on her body _somewhere_.

Quickly, she looked over her arms to see the words, twisting and turning them every way she could without breaking her bones. But there were no words there, not that she could see.

She frowned as Jonathan snored obnoxiously in the darkness. Desperate, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. Still, no words, no matter how her arms turned.

Everyone else in her family got their words on their arms. Well, except for her mum. Ani Naeem Carnahan had her words on her rib cage, and only once had Evie ever seen them.

She looked there next and there they were, right on her skin.

_So who’s the broad_

Evie’s jaw dropped as she studied the words. _Broad_? What kind of nonsense was this? She couldn’t believe her Soulmate was going to be someone so _uncouth_ and so _vulgar._

Desperately, she ran her thumb over her tongue and went to wipe off the words that littered her right ribcage. Surely, Jonathan wrote the words in ink and was just messing with her.

By any grace of any Gods, the words didn’t come off.

She straightened her shoulders and raised her head. She was _not_ going to be anyone’s broad.

+

(Medjai Village - 1909 AD)

Ardeth Bay was the only person in his village with his Soulmate Saying in English, which caused a lot of gossip.

“He’s going to abandon us” “He won’t be a faithful leader” “He’ll be biased and ruin the Medjai” and much more awful things he had had to hear at the age of 13 and onward. News and gossip spread fast, even in the most dedicated of villages and societies.

Even at the young age, as the son of the current commander, he knew he would prove them wrong. His allegiance was with his people, not whoever his Soulmate would be.

But yet, at night, he would light a lantern and look at his _Qawl Mathur_ in the glow of the light, the dark words vibrant against his tanned skin.

_You’re not going to kill us_

Ardeth barely knew English at that point, only knowing Arabic and some Ancient Egyptian. But he knew the word ‘kill’. And it made him nervous, not that he'd say if anyone asked. Had he threatened his Soulmate? Had someone else? It made him unable to sleep, so he stayed up late to stare at it in confusion.

But one night, his mother caught him. His mother, one of the teachers to the children in their tribe, saw him running his fingers over the mark in the glow of the lantern. And she decided to do something about it.

“Your soulmate is probably English,” His mother said, pulling out a book in her bedside trunk. The tent was small and they were slightly nomadic, but they always had her books. “You must learn the language if you were to ever marry one.” She held out a book to him, one about speaking English.

He shook his head, “I am to be the commander of our tribe. I cannot take a bride.”

“Your father took me as a bride,” She said with a warm smile. “Is he not a good commander?”

He said nothing, not falling for it.

“Your father has taught you too well,” She told him with a smirk. Out of respect for his mother, he told her the truth.

“I can't take a white bride,” Ardeth pointed out the obvious after a moment of silence. “I am a descendant of the Pharaoh's bodyguard Bay Irsu. I cannot disrespect my blood line.”

She grabbed his arm and twisted it so his mark stared them both in the face. “This is love, this is destiny,” She urged him. “It is not disrespect.”

He looked at his _Qawl Mathur_ and tried to see it in such a light. He couldn’t. But not wanting to upset his mother, he agreed to learn English and would practice with her throughout the night.

But it wasn’t until he was 15 and learning to fight on horseback, when one of his fellow Medjai-in-Training sliced at his right arm in the middle of combat.

Nearly frantic, Ardeth fell off his horse and went to pull up his robe sleeves in the sand.

Right below his _Qawl Mathur_ was a deep cut. But nothing affected the words. They weren’t damaged at all. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Can’t handle me, mighty warrior?” Tarik Seif said, wiping the blood off his dagger on a stray cloth.

“You wish,” Ardeth said, pulling himself up and out of the sand. He tugged down his sleeve, the gash no longer a reason to panic. “Best two out of three.”

But after the lesson, as he bandaged himself up in his tent, he looked at his Saying once more and found he didn’t mind the English so much.

+

(Cairo Prison, Egypt - 1926 AD)

Rick O’Connell _loved_ where his Soulmate Saying was. The whole Soulmate thing is nonsense, but his Saying was in a great spot. Right on his back between his shoulder blades, it was practically invisible. He rarely had to see it.

Granted, when he was a kid, this pissed him off, always having to contort awkwardly to see it in the mirror. In fact, his mother was the first one who told him what it said:

_This is the man you stole it from_

Now a man, he liked the placement. It was never in his face if he bedded a woman, and the women who bedded him wouldn't find it in the throes of passion. It worked well.

Nearing his mid-thirties, he still hadn't met his soulmate but he had become somewhat of a filthy criminal. In order to keep himself from meeting his soulmate, regardless of how futile it might be, he worked on making himself strong and unassailable. Someone another person wouldn’t dare steal from unless they wanted a bullet to the ass.

But yet, after actually managing to be robbed and then thrown in jail for throwing a punch, he felt he had lost said toughness. The Cairo prison hadn't been kind to him. Lots of beatings and the inability to properly clean yourself took its toll on a man.

So on the day of his hanging, he didn't expect it to get any better.

Even when it was announced he had visitors.

“You have visitors,” Gad Hassan said.

“Are you whoring me out for the circus?” Rick asked, getting his shackles adjusted.

“You wouldn’t make a penny,” Gad snapped back. “Now, don’t make me look bad, these people are _British_.” With that, Gad left to go greet the British visitors Gad apparently had.

“You’re doing fine on your own,” He muttered under his own breath. For that, he got a club to the gut and he decided he was _not_ going to play nice.

So when he was thrown out and kicked down to his knees in the outside cell, faced with two of the poshiest, boringist people he’d ever seen in his life, he knew just a sneer (along with his ratty hair and general stench) would set them off.

“This is the man you stole it from?” The woman of the pair asked, a girl practically covered head to toe in the Egyptian heat, staring him right in his eyes.

Rick ignored the way his heart fell (not swooped, nothing about him swooped or swooned or any other at that bullshit) after she said the words that stained his back and turned to the man, who was vaguely familiar.

The man whispered to his sister and Rick missed having attention.

“Who are you?” He asked the man in the suit, looking like a posh idiot as well. With that, he turned to the girl. “And who’s the broad?” He asked, pretending to be unimpressed.

“Broad?” The broad repeated, offended.

For a moment, the two Brits shared a look, but then the man continued on.

“I’m just a local, sort-of missionary-chap, spreading the good word,” The man blathered. “But this is my sister, Evie.” Said sister was recoiling away from him.

“How do you do?” She asked as her brother pulled her forward.

It was something in the man’s voice, but he was more distracted by the fact he might have met his soulmate. Well, it’s not like any of that shit mattered.

“Yeah, well, guess she’s not a total loss,” He said as he gave her a onceover. That settled it. People don’t say things like that to their soulmates.

“I beg your pardon-”

Gad, in all his grace, shouted something at other prisoners and left them be. Ugh, stuck with these two? He honestly would rather be back in his prison cell.

But then they mentioned his missing box. And after punching the brother (Jonathan, if his memory served) in the face, things were starting to get interesting.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked the broad, who seemed to be hanging on his every word. That was also interesting, not that he’d admit it.

“Yes.”

“Do you _really_ want to know?” He repeated, just to get her close.

She smelled like soap, something flowery, and it was the best damn thing he smelled in ages. But that wasn’t the focus now.

“Yes,” She said. Was it just him or was she breathless?

And, if he was going to be hanged, and if this broad really was his soulmate, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Through the bars, he kissed her.

And, yeah, he got beaten for it and thrown back in his cell until his execution.

But, goddamn, was it worth it.

+

(Hamunaptra, Egypt - 1926 AD)

Hamunaptra wasn’t so bad, Jonathan figured. Barring all the deaths and the smells and the general desert dryness of course, but at least he wasn’t alone.

Evie sat beside him in front of the fire. Neither would admit it, but the death of the detested warden was frightening and lingering over them.

So Jonathan decided to change the subject.

“ _So who’s the broad_ ,” He quoted at his sister.

To his mirth, she clutched at her side before dropping her hand and glaring at him. “Men say such things to women all the time.”

“But have you asked him what his markings are?” He prompted.

“No,” She said, berating him. “Because we’re trying to find Hamunaptra and the Book of Amun-Ra. This isn’t the time.”

“Well, we got one out of two,” He figured. “And if we learned anything today, life is short.”

She said nothing for a moment, and then said, “How do you suppose he died?” Dammit, she was trying to change the subject.

Before he could berate her, Rick walked back up from the American’s camp, sharing their bad news as well, but Jonathan didn’t really care all that much as they talked, barely interjecting as he got distracted by alcohol.

He just drank the warden’s alcohol as Rick and Evie chatted by the fire. He honestly kind of hoped the uncouth man _was_ his sister’s Soulmate, because things would be interesting and he’d never let her live it down.

Just as he was about to get the party started, Rick straightened like frightened bird at the sound of something off in the distance.

“Stay here,” He ordered them. “Take this,” And with that, he gives his sister the giant elephant gun in his arsenal.

“No, no, wait, wait!” Evie chased after him.

Jonathan groaned, he wanted to chat about her Soulmate Saying but he wasn’t going to be left _alone_ in the middle of Hamunaptra. So he chased after them both, calling, “Didn’t the man just say ‘stay here,’ Evie?”

He ran after her and but stopped in his tracks as he saw a group of men in black robes on horseback, just like the ones on the barge, coming and shooting and attacking them all from all sides.

Well, that just won’t stand.

Making sure he had one of O’Connell’s pistols and the Glenlivet for strength, Jonathan hid behind a rock thing and shot at whoever he could aim at. Which, even with the darkness and his general drunk blurry, was actually pretty good.

But then that smarmy Hungarian (Benny, he thought but didn’t really care) stole his drink. But then he let it all spill on the sand.

Jonathan was about to shout at him for wasting liquor when another man on horseback suddenly appeared, shouting at them. The Hungarian spat the alcohol in his face but he didn’t have time to react other than to run.

Realizing he was being chased, Jonathan scrambled to find the only person who could help him.

“O’Connell!” He tried to run faster than a horse, but then the hooves suddenly stopped. He whipped around to see Rick, the man, and the horse suddenly in the sand.

Distracted, he watched them move and pivot and strike and all that fancy fighting stuff until Rick pulled out and lit a stick of dynamite.

Oh no.

The man stopped suddenly, his robes no longer covering his face. And Jonathan felt his jaw drop. Wow, even with the face tattoos, excessive facial hair, and the fact he was about to murder him just a few moments before, the desert man was attractive.

“Enough!” The man shouted, and then shouted something in Arabic. He didn’t take his eyes off Rick as he ordered his men something in quick Arabic. He turned to their group once more. “We will shed no more blood tonight. But you must leave. Leave this place. Leave this place or die.”

Then Jonathan got a very bad feeling that this place might be the one alluded to in his Soulmate Saying. He just barely resisted the urge to scratch the mark.

The man turned away, adding, “You have one day” and shouting some more in Arabic. And then all the men in black robes were gone. Rick took out the fuse of the dynamite.

Jonathan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and took another swig of the Glenlivet.

Jesus, this desert was going to do him in.

+

(Hamunaptra - 1926 AD)

Evie had never fired a gun that size in her entire life, and she was honestly so terrified of all the people from the ship that she found herself perfectly at ease on the sandy ground.

At least until O’Connell was suddenly at her side.

“Evelyn, hey,” He asked her, his voice the gentlest she had ever heard it. He took the gun from her tight grip and reached for her head as she sat up. “Are you alright?” Together, they got her up.

“Yes, I’m fine,” She said. Honestly, she was. A bit shaken, but she was alive. That was more than some people in Hamunaptra could say right now. Her head ached a bit and her fingers were sore from her tense grip on the elephant gun, but she was fine.

She looked up at him and he was staring right into her eyes. Abruptly, she felt his hands, one on her left bicep the other on her waist to hold her steady. It was the only thing she could feel.

His hand left her arm to touch her chin. “You sure?” He checked.

“Thank you,” She found herself saying, instead of ‘yes’ or ‘how are you?’ His finger and thumb kept caressing over her cheek. She convinced herself it was for medical reasons.

But she felt anything _but_ medical right then.

And since she had a minor head injury and this day had been hectic, she continued to be held by O’Connell.

“That proves it,” One of the Americans said as his hand went back to her arm. “Old Seti’s fortune’s got to be under this sand.” She, as subtly as possible, moved to stand closer to him, letting her hand touch his chest.

Her Saying tingled under his touch at her side, but she paid it no mind.

“For them to protect it like this, you just know there’s treasure down there,” Another said.

She watched them but kept herself in O’Connell’s grip, even as he said, “No, these men are a desert people. They value water, not gold.”

Before she could voice her agreement, another American stepped forward, the one with glasses and who was currently covered in shaving cream. “You know, maybe just at night, we could combine forces?”

After that, her brain got more fuzzy the more of the Glenlivet she drank. Who would’ve thought that stinky warden had such good taste?

Jonathan slept beside them and the fire. She wished he was awake so she could talk to him about the warrior man who spoke his words. After nearly killing them, twice, still, but they were still her brother’s words. She hoped that he and Jonathan would get to be happy together.

But at the moment, she was drunk and distracted as O’Connell taught her self-defense. She threw a right hook, but accidentally threw herself with it and he caught her.

Once again, his arm touched her right ribcage and once again she felt them tingle, the most pleasant of burns. But she was too giggly to really speak up about it.

“Unlike your brother, miss,” O’Connell said. Oh he was talking, she should pay attention. “You, I just don’t get.”

She choked a little at the alcohol burn before saying, “I know. You’re wondering... what’s a place like me doing in a girl like this.” She gestured to herself.

“Something like that,” He agreed.

“Egypt is in my blood,” She told him emphatically. “You see, my father was a very famous explorer.” She pulls out her locket with pictures she wore to keep them close. “He loved Egypt so much that he married my mother, who was an Egyptian and _quite_ an adventurer herself.” The words, her story, came out so easily to him. Probably the liquor, but she liked the feeling of openness.

“I get your father, I get your mother, I get him,” He pointed to her brother. “But what are _you_ doing here?” Now, he pointed at her.

Suddenly, the open feeling disappeared and she felt downright insulted. How _dare_ he. How dare O’Connell.

“Look,” She staggered to her feet. “I may not be an explorer or an adventurer,” She said, smacking at his hand as he went to steady her. “Or a treasure seeker or a gunfighter, _Mr. O’Connell_ , but I am proud of what I am.”

“And what is that?” He asked her.

“I am a librarian!” She said, proudly. Because she was. Proud. She _loved_ books so much and she loved learning and she loved words- Words!

She fell to her knees and sat before him, lit by fire in the Hamunaptra sands.

“So who’s the broad” She said at him. “Those are my words. What are your words?”

“My words?” He asked, but didn’t answer.

But she didn’t need or want an answer. Maybe this would be one of those tragic situations where someone is someone else’s soulmate but they aren’t theirs in return. And, drunk and giddy on liquor, she didn’t feel like knowing just then.

She just wanted to act.

“And I am going to kiss you, Mr. O’Connell.”

“Call me Rick,” He said.

She smiled. It wasn’t her words, it wasn’t an admittance of being Soulmates, but it was a yes.

“Rick,” She said, her lips stretching to a giddy smile.

And that’s the last thing she remembered.

+

(Hamunaptra - 1926 AD)

Ardeth waited with his fellow Medjai and the Egyptologist on the sacred grounds of Hamunaptra. Even as the commander of his tribe and a man nearly the age of 30, he still felt unqualified and bit apprehensive to walk this sand. So he distracted himself by visiting the man whose eyes and tongue were torn from him.

“Is he going to be alright?” He asked their medic in Arabic, who was tending to one of the excavators who had already been attacked by the Creature.

“He will live,” Akil Ra replied. “But knowing the Creature, not for long.”

Ardeth simply nodded and went to stand at the frontlines with the rest of his warriors.

No one said a word, until Tarik did.

“Some of those scavengers speak English,” He said. “Do you suppose one of them is your Soulmate?”

“Are you really going to discuss this? Now and here?” Ardeth almost couldn’t believe the nerve, but Tarik always did lack a filter.

“The apocalypse is nigh,” His close friend responded, unapologetic. “Do we truly know what time we have left?”

Before Ardeth could properly formulate a response, the explorers ran out of the tombs. Luckily for all involved, they didn’t run away. In fact, they raised their hands in surrender and stayed still.

His people kept their weapons cocked and raised. But since he was the only one who spoke English well, he spoke on behalf of them.

“I told you to leave or die,” He told the man he fought, with the brown hair and the broad face. “You refused. Now you may have killed us all, for you have unleashed a creature we have feared for more than 3,000 years.” They needed to know the seriousness of their consequences, that his people will have to pay.

“Relax, I got him,” He said, gesturing to his revolver.

“No mortal weapon can kill this creature,” He said, for it seemed fairly obvious. “He’s not of this world.”

With that, he stepped aside as his Medjai warriors pulled out the man Imhotep attacked and that Akil had operated on.

The explorers stared in shock as their comrade was placed at their feet. “You bastard,” One of them said.

“What did you do to him?” Another demanded. The man without eyes and tongue groaned in pain.

“We saved him,” Ardeth said, for it was the truth. “Saved him before the creature could finish his work.”

He looked over the group, and his eyes settled on the one he must have chased after atop his horse Amenemhat, named after a Pharaoh one of his relatives served under. The man had a narrow face and light hair, but there was something about it that drew him in. It might have been his eyes, light and blue on his face. But Ardeth didn’t have time to ponder.

“Leave, all of you, quickly,” He said and he needed them to listen. The man he stared at and the woman beside him gasped slightly as he continued, looking over the rest. “Before he finishes you all.”

“You’re not going to kill us?” The man, the one he chased, asked, near desperate. The woman beside him elbowed him harshly.

Years of training to be stoic in the face of danger had paid off as Ardeth kept his face a perfect mask of impassivity. Absently, he adjusted his robe sleeve over his mark. He could feel the gaze of some of his fellow warriors on him, but this was not the time to handle such matters, no matter what Tarik said.

He ordered his men to move forward and to leave the scavengers be. He did not answer the man’s question, not directly. But he did say, “We must go on the hunt, and try and find a way to kill him.”

“I already told you, I got him,” The man he fought said.

Ardeth, even though he had no time, turned back to them. “Know this. This creature is the bringer of death. He will never eat, he will never sleep, and he will never stop.” With that, he left them.

But not without one last look at the man who said his words. He hoped that their paths would cross once more.

Perhaps, under better circumstances.

+

(Cairo - 1926 AD)

Rick stared at the mob of people who had become slaves. He was only armed with an undrawn pistol, a torch, and a dwindling amount of bullets, with Evie, Carnahan, the Medjai, and the Curator.

He’d had worse odds, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. But this time, he didn’t have any better ideas. And that pissed him off.

They were corned up against a building, surrounded. There was nowhere to run. But the slaves didn’t attack.

Imhotep, with an actual face and body instead of just weird dead gunk, approached their group with Beni behind them. Rick should have killed that Hungarian snake when he had the chance.

“It’s the Creature,” The Curator said. “He’s fully regenerated.”

The Mummy started speaking in a language he didn’t understand. So he kept the torch raised.

“Come with me, my princess,” Beni said, translating. “It is time to make you mine, forever.”

“‘For all eternity,’ idiot,” Evelyn sneered.

Rick didn’t have time to be proud of her before Imhotep kept talking and Beni translated once more, “Take my hand, and I will spare your friends.”

“Oh dear,” She said, and honestly he couldn’t have put him better himself. “Have you got any bright ideas?” She asked him.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” He murmured.

“You better think of something fast,” She said and that’s when he looked at her. “Because if he turns me into a mummy, you’re the first one I’m coming after.”

He swallowed tightly. If this broad- if this amazing spectacle of a woman really was his Soulmate, there was no way he was going to let her go with this ancient dead guy.

Evelyn stepped forward into the embrace of Imhotep.

“No,” Rick said and pulled out his weapon. It might not have been a bright idea but at least it was something. He aimed it right at the ancient bastard.

“Don’t!” She ordered as the Medjai, Ardeth, grabbed at his arm. “He still has to take me to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual,” She reminded him. It looked so wrong to see her by the mummy’s side and he hated it with every fiber of his being.

“She is right,” Ardeth said, practically in his ear. But even then, Rick barely heard him. “Live today, fight tomorrow.”

Rick kept his gaze on Evelyn, and the gun raised at Imhotep. In her eyes, he saw her asking him to let her go so they could live and get her back. He saw her asking him to trust her.

He holstered his weapon.

Rick took a deep breath and then wheeled on the undead priest. “I’ll be seeing you again,” He vowed, pointing the torch at him.

And he was stuck to watch as the bastard lead his Soulmate away from him.

“Evelyn-” Rick nearly growled after her, but Ardeth held him back. He felt the words on his back burn like there was a torch striking his skin.

“Hey that’s mine-” Jonathan said beside him. For Christ’s sake, now Beni had the key box. And Imhotep had Evelyn. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.  

But then the priest said something, and Evelyn started shouting, “No! Let go of me!”

And the enslaved city people started to advance as Evelyn disappeared from view.

“Goodbye, my friend,” Beni said with a sneer.

“Come here,” Rick lunged at him. Killing the bastard might make him feel better. But he was already gone.

“Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep,” The mob chanted as they approached.

Rick threw the torch at the closest villagers and went for the sewer grate. He may not have had any bright ideas, but he was going to stay alive to make sure Evelyn was.

“What about my sister?” Jonathan asked him. Absently, Rick wondered if he thought that he and his sister were Soulmates.

“We’re going to get her back,” Rick promised, and threw him down the hole.

Because he would. Even if it’s the last thing he did.

+

(Hamunaptra - 1926 AD)

Jonathan didn’t have strength, really. Well, he didn’t have _muscular_ strength. He considered himself strong in his mind and heart. He was, after all, a Carnahan. They weren’t much warriors, they preferred books and adventures without the dirty work.

So that was why he was content to let O’Connell and the Medjai Warrior/Ardeth Bay/his potential Soulmate be the ones to do the heavy lifting. Plus, he might have fractured something in his arm when the plane went down.

“I’d take those bigger stones first,” He suggested as the other two kept pulling the rocks out of their way. This was his only way to help, and he was damn sure gonna try. “Take them from the top, otherwise the whole thing will cave on us. Come on, put your backs into it-”

They both stopped what they’re doing and turned around to glare at him, out of breath. Honestly, his potential Soulmate looked kind of attractive all sweaty- okay, he needs to calm down.

“Yes, well, you’ve got the idea,” He said, trying to focus on the fact this was not some sort of date and instead a rescue mission. “Chop, chop.”

Jonathan decided to make himself useful and explore as he looked around the Lost City. He heard a squeal from his left side, and that caught his attention.

Bug-shaped gemstones littered the walls, and this insatiable need took over. “I say,” He murmured to himself and held one in his hands. It had a density to it, and it shined effervescently in the glow of the torches. Even though they were insects, they had a beauty to them.

“Gents, you should come and have a look at this,” He told them, albeit absently. He cocked his head as he studied the stone, trying to place how much money it would earn him.

Suddenly, an _actual_ bug broke out like a chicken breaking out of an egg. It skittered like nails on a tiny chalkboard and then it just _entered_ his _hand_.

Jonathan screamed out in pain as he felt the bug invade his arm.

“What?” O’Connell’s voice was just a whisper in his ear, too distracted by watching the lump of skin that contained a scarab (he had read too much about those bastards to think this was a good thing) crawl up his arm.

Holy fuck, he was about to vomit.

Finally, he realized he had to answer them. “It’s my arm, my arm!” He held out his arm, the Soulmate Saying dark against his pale skin. He wondered if Ardeth saw them, for a moment until the goddamn bug kept moving.

O’Connell ripped at his shirt and if Jonathan were a lesser man, he’d blush at his state. But since he’s about to be destroyed by a bug, he could deal.

He shrieked a gasp as the scarab protruded from his shoulder. That was definitely distracting.

“Do something!” He begged. He didn’t want to die, especially not like this. “Do something!”

Ardeth grabbed him roughly and pulled him against flush against him. He might have made a joke to distract himself, but then O’Connell pulled out a pocket knife.

“Not that! Not that!” He begged. He _hated_ sharp things, couldn't handle them. He grunted out in pain as the American dug the scarab out of his flesh and flung it to the sand.

Ardeth threw Jonathan behind him as the bug kept moving. Immediately, he felt protected, and his Soulmate Saying burned with an all new feeling, hopefully not scarab-related. So he let himself hold onto the man as O’Connell shot the bug.

After getting chased by the undead priests, they were locked in a room with Horus to find the Book of Amun-Ra. Thankfully, Ardeth had torn off some of his robes to protect his wrist, but unfortunately they were far from the treasure in the main room.

One door was “closed” thanks to dynamite, but Jonathan could hear Imhotep’s priests drawing near. But he refused to be unhelpful and find another bug again, so he helped O’Connell pull at the statue as Ardeth locked and loaded.

“Damn, these guys just don’t quit, do they?” O’Connell snarled.

Before Jonathan could agree, Ardeth cocked the gun in his hands. “Keep digging.”

Trusting him, both he and O’Connell unearthed the book as Ardeth shot at any approaching priests. But soon, they started to mob.

“Save the girl,” The Medjai said, turning to them. Jonathan looked up. “Kill the creature.”

With that, he ran into the fray.

Jonathan hesitated, an ache inside him urging him to help him, but O’Connell was already going on with that plan.

At a loss for words, for perhaps the first time in his life, the last thing he heard Ardeth say was “What are you waiting for? Get out, get out!” As Priests surrounded him, O’Connell pulled him away from his Soulmate.

+

(Hamunaptra - 1926 AD)

Even as she was chained by Imhotep, face to face with Anck-su-Namun, and about to used for sacrifice, as soon as she heard the first gunshot ring out in the tombs of Hamunaptra, she knew that Rick O’Connell was coming for her. And it gave her strength.

Even as her idiot brother didn’t know how to translate _stork_ , she knew they’d save her. So when they appeared at the top of the stairs with the book, she was pleased and unsurprised to find herself correct.

Later, after a massive battle, Evie stood with her brother and her Soulmate as she watched the mummy’s body get submerged in the water.

Before he turned into a skeleton, Imhotep whispered, in Ancient Egyptian, “ _Death is only the beginning_ ” which she translated for them.

Then, the walls started to shake and lower. She tried to remember a reading, any reading, to see if they could beat this.

But O’Connell just said, “Time to go,” and tugged her away, holding her hand. Honestly, probably the best course of action. Plus, his hand was oddly soft and coarse in the right ways, and the Saying on her ribs felt like it was serenading. She kind of wished it could calm down during this hectic moment, but it was too much of a pleasant feeling for her to really mind.

All three of them ran, even though she tried to salvage the book, as sand closed in around them.

They ran through the room of gold, this time having to rescue Jonathan, as they ran up the steps.

O’Connell’s hand kept going for hers as they ran, and she let it anchor her after all she’d seen in the past few days. That smarmy bastard Beni kept calling for them, but they had to leave him behind. Good riddance, honestly.

They fled the tombs in the buried city, but things weren’t much better up above. The columns collapsed above them and the ground disappeared below them. Just barely, they were able to keep just out of the sands’ grasp, running with everything they had.

The sound was deafening behind her as the city destroyed itself. The librarian in her crumbled at the loss of all the artifacts and the Book of Amun-Ra that she’d never get to read, at the caves and tombs she’d never get to explore.

But as they turned back around, Rick at her side, and all of them still alive, she couldn’t regret anything. (Except maybe reading the Book of the Dead in the first place.)

Then she remembered the Medjai who had worked with Curator Bey, and how she hadn’t seen him in the City. Was he lost beneath the sands? Did he not join them at all? But he was the one who spoke her brother’s Saying. He couldn’t have-

Evie moved to turn to her brother, to express her condolences, when Jonathan suddenly screamed beside her.

+

(Outside Hamunaptra - 1926 AD)

Ardeth saw the trio leave the City of Hamunaptra, relieved that all of them were alive. He had never forged bonds with people outside the Medjai and his village, but he was grateful he had.

He kept off to the side to watch the city and all evidence collapse in on itself, but also to make sure they would have assistance if they needed it. But, as he suspected, they seemed to be doing well on their own.

The sun beat down on him as he sat atop a camel (who was certainly no Amenemhat), his body aching and sore and quite possibly bleeding from his battle with the priests but he was mostly worried about the state of his Soulmate. Absently, he pulled down his sleeve to look at the words once more.

_You’re not going to kill us_

Looking back, Ardeth had always assumed the Saying was a source of struggle, something that caused him ostracization that he fought for years. But it had become a question that turned into a promise.

But he couldn’t promise more than safety.

He watch them catch their breath for a moment and brought his sleeve back down to cover the _Qawl Mathur_. But he needed to report back to the rest of the Medjai and they probably needed to get out of the desert. So, he touched his Soulmate.

Jonathan screamed and flailed backwards in shock and Ardeth tried and succeeded to hold back his amusement.

“Thank you,” Jonathan said, a note of humor and sarcasm in his voice as he clutched his heart. “Thank you very much.”

Ardeth didn’t have time to deal with his jokes and said sincerely, “You have earned the respect and gratitude of me and my people.”

“Yes, well, it was nothing,” Jonathan said, as Evelyn smiled at him and Rick just nodded. It seemed to represent them all quite well.

“May Allah smile upon you always,” He bid them farewell. He kissed his hand, touched his forehead and passed it to them.

Jonathan vaguely repeated and same gesture, mumbling, “Yes, to you, as well.” If he didn’t know better, the man seemed nervous. Perhaps, it was all that had happened in the past few days.

Ardeth lingered one moment to look at the couple that O’Connell and Evelyn had become over the short time before one last look to Jonathan. He spent that one moment lamenting what could never be of the two of them. For he was a Medjai, sworn to his people. And Jonathan had his own commitments as well. While Soulmates were destined, they weren’t always destined to be.

Because he couldn’t give himself to them (to Jonathan) anymore, afraid of what he’d do, he left them.

“Stay out of trouble!” O’Connell called, and Ardeth smirked to himself before it fell off his face as he headded towards his camp.

At least Hamunaptra was buried. At least Imhotep was destroyed. And while there was potential for them both to return, he knew that was the important thing. Not his Soulmate.

+

(Cairo - 1926 AD)

Rick sat on Evelyn’s bed as the woman in question paced in front of him.

“You’re going to burn a rut in the floor,” He told her. “And the place is already damaged enough.”

She paused just enough to fix him with a glare.

“I honestly don’t know what to do,” She continued, hands twisting in front of her as kept pacing. “The city is in shambles and it is completely our fault-”

“ _Your_ fault.”

“And the library is still a disaster, I never did quite clean up like I was supposed to, there’s no curator, there are funeral services to arrange, Jonathan found his Soulmate and lost him and-” She started to breathe uneasily and Rick felt his heart clench at the sight of her so unnerved and he felt bad for teasing at her.

“Easy, easy, that is a lot,” He assured her as he gently grabbed her hands to sit her down beside him. She finally seemed to relax, if only a little bit. While he could still practically hear her heart thumping, she rested her head against his shoulder.

“That’s a lot to think about,” He agreed once more, letting his thumb trail over the back of her hand. “But it is getting late, maybe we should worry about this after rest. We did defeat a mummy today.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “There’s that ‘we’ again,” She said softly.

He flashed a grin at her and kissed at her face. The two of them had washed up, bandaged up, and changed into their sleepclothes, but he could feel this static energy within them all.

“You know,” She said, drawing out the words, their faces inches apart. “We never did make it official.”

“Are you already asking for my hand in marriage, Miss Carnahan?” He murmured.

She shoved at him, laughing. Good, that’s exactly what he had wanted.

“I want to see my words- your words- _our_ words, I guess,” She stammered out, a blush rising in her face.

Because he knew she’d had a hard day, he resisted his natural instinct to give her a bit of a hard time.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowly unbuttoned his night shirt and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hotel room was already a mess and he honestly had better things to worry about.

Rick took her hand and placed it by his shoulder, finally breaking the eye contact so that his words faced away.

“ _This is the man you stole it from_ ” She repeated the words as her fingers traced over the lines of the words. “Is it wrong to be grateful that my brother pick-pocketed you?"

"Yes."

She shoved at him once more but did give him a smile when he turned back around.

Before he could ask, the blush in her cheeks flared up once more. Without a word, she slid the sleeves of her nightgown down.

Rick swallowed at the sudden tightness in his throat and watched as she shielded herself except the words.

“ _So who’s the broad_ ” He repeated his words again, staring at the way they stood out against her skin. “Well...” He trailed off. “She’s an amazing, intelligent, powerful woman who takes the breath out of me every day.”

And then she beamed, and it was sunlight. And he knew in that moment he would fight a million mummies for her every day just to keep her with him.

+

(Cairo - 1926 AD)

It had been one week since Hamunaptra, and things were finally starting to settle. Cairo wasn’t exactly normal but it was getting there. Evie had made herself at home in the library with Rick at her (reluctant) side as she reorganized her disaster in the Museum.

Jonathan was happy for them, he really was. His sister, as insufferable as she was, deserved happiness. And apparently the American was giving it to her. Plus, Rick O’Connell made for a good drinking buddy.

But he couldn’t help but feel down. Even though they had _some_ treasure, he was right back where he started. Drunk, ridiculous, and alone. Granted, he know had gold to spend but Old Mum had insisted on setting up a chart and a budget to make sure they didn't draw too much attention to themselves.

He sat at the bar in the place where they had tasted the alcohol that flowed as blood. He didn’t feel like going far for a nightcap, and the bar itself was nearly empty because of all the damage. But the booze was still there, so he was too.

Glenlivet tasted wrong after the latest connotation, so he sipped at Jameson that cost too much and let himself wallow.  

He had met his Soulmate. Potentially, they never got to confirm it. Seeing the words you speak on the person you were destined to love forever is a special, important moment. And his Saying was ripped for all to see at a moment he was about to be eaten by a scarab from the inside out.

Plus, he hadn't even seen Ardeth’s Saying. He was denied that too.

He threw back the rest of his drink and tapped his fingers on the bar counter.

“Keep them coming,” He said to the bartender.

“You are like a camel,” A familiar voice broke through his ears.

“How romantic,” Jonathan said without turning around. “I’m swooning.”

“Considering how you're drinking, it would be a possibility,” Ardeth said as he sat down next to him on his right. The phrase ‘right hand man’ repeated endlessly in the back of his head for some reason.

“What are you doing back here?” He asked the Medjai. “Last I recall, you left us in the desert.”

“And you made it out fine,” The Medjai was unrepentant. “But I- I wanted to be sure.”

“Noble of you,” Jonathan relented, fingers clutched around his drink but not actually taking it down. “I- did you see my mark?”

“Yes, I did,” The desert man answered. Jonathan didn't know why he expected anything but honesty.

“I didn't expect my Soulmate to be someone like you,” Jonathan said. “It wasn't even in a realm of things to consider when I was 13.”

“I was the only one in my village with an English Qawl Mathur,” Ardeth revealed. “It started quite the conversation.”

“Can I see?” Jonathan blurted. He couldn't entirely promise that he wouldn't have said the same thing sober. But at least he could hide behind the whiskey (one of his favorite defenses.)

Wordlessly, Ardeth pulled up his sleeve, the dark robes nearly a perfect match to the ink that uncovered.

“ _You're not going to kill us_ ” Jonathan read aloud. He swallowed at the confirmation. “I don't suppose there's anything to do about this, do I?” He wasn't sure the sentence made sense, but he hoped the warrior understood.

Ardeth said nothing. He just leaned over so his lips pressed against Jonathan’s cheek for a soft lingering beat. He swallowed at the sensation of stubble against his own. It wasn't unpleasant. At all.

“ _Hatta masaratina tueabbir marratan 'ukhraa_ ,” He murmured. “ _Nusfi alakhar._ ”

Jonathan said nothing, but turned his face so their lips caught on each other as Ardeth pulled away.

“I don't know what that means,” Jonathan said as Ardeth now was no longer in his space. “But I intend to find out.”

Ardeth smiled, a faint twisting of the lips. “I am sure you will.”

“I hope this isn't the last I see of you,” Jonathan admitted. This one he _definitely_ planned on blaming on the whiskey.

Ardeth pushed off the stool and pulled his sleeve back down. “Knowing your luck,” He said with a hint of humor in his voice. “I'm sure it won't be.”

With that, Jonathan was left alone once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Thanks again to Em i love her with my entire heart. Follow me on tumblr @stardustsantiago or @auteurmelbrooks (for my movie blog).  
> ALSO  
> NOTE: Okay, I used google translate for the Arabic and I completely acknowledge that all the words I used might be total nonsense so I apologize. Here are the intended translations:  
> Qawl Mathur: effective saying  
> Hatta masaratina tueabbir marratan 'ukhraa, balday alnnisf alakhar: until our paths cross once more, my other half


End file.
